Lists
by blueowls
Summary: Brittany x Santana. //The first list Santana confiscates from Brittany is a list of songs for their ballad assignment.//


**Author Note: **None.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Lists**

The first list Santana confiscates from Brittany is a list of songs for their ballad assignment.

Santana reads the titles and names, lips moving silently. She knows all of the songs, because you can't spend all your time—literally, all of your time—with someone without getting to know what they like to listen to and what they like hearing. Brittany likes to listen to Quinn's music and Santana's music even though the differences between the two of them are almost impossibly large and likes hearing Santana whisper her name at night before she falls asleep.

Santana takes the list and folds it carefully and evenly. When Brittany realizes it's missing, she frowns and bites her lower lip, asking Santana if she saw it, but Santana lies and kisses her. It's her favorite way to distract Brittany—and it's probably Brittany's favorite way of being distracted—and the issue's dropped once Schuester gives up on making them sing ballads to each other.

As much as she'd like to, Santana can't let Brittany sing those songs to her in front of anyone else. But later at night, tucked between Brittany and a mountain of pillows and stuffed animals, she hums a few bars from the first song before she stops. The room's quiet until Brittany shifts beside her, yawns softly, and takes over.

She's no Rachel, but Santana thinks Man Hand's overrated anyway.

The second list Santana confiscates from Brittany is a list of baby names.

Admittedly, she finds it half by chance and half by snooping. Brittany's cat is on her bed, purring like an idiot and pawing at her lap, and Santana shoots it a glare as she pops open the lock on Brittany's diary. She holds it up to read the writing—pink jelly pen on a blinding white background—when the cat sinks it claws into her thigh with a meow. Santana drops the diary with a loud expletive, and the cat scatters at the noise.

When she picks up the book, a piece of folded paper slips out, and Santana opens it.

"You can't give this to Quinn," Santana says, sitting at the kitchen table. Brittany looks up from rummaging around in the freezer. She walks over, holding a bucket of vanilla ice cream, and doesn't look at all disturbed that Santana's holding something she was keeping secret.

"It's not for Quinn," Brittany says with a faint shrug, and for once, Santana can't tell if she's lying or not.

"Well," Santana says slowly, pointing to a girl's name halfway down the list as Brittany sits on her lap and hands her a spoon before popping the top off the ice cream. "Then I don't like that name."

Brittany holds up a spoonful of ice cream, and Santana obliges, opening her mouth. The kiss is sweet and cold and warm all at the same time.

"Then neither do I."

The third list Santana confiscates from Brittany is a list of things she likes about Santana. If her ego weren't already the size of a house, then it easily surpasses that once she reads the list.

"What do you like about me?" Santana asks as Brittany pins her down on her bedroom floor. Blue eyes shut lazily as Brittany kisses her way down her body.

"Everything," she says simply, but Santana already knew that because it was the only thing on the list.

Unlike the other lists, this one does not end up crumpled and in the trash or shoved to the back of a desk drawer. It ends up in her binder, slid under another paper in the clear plastic front, to pull out whenever Puck tries to hit on her or Berry gets on her last nerve or Sue makes them run an extra three laps. Eventually, she loses it and, uncharacteristically, mopes the rest of the day. It seems symbolic, like now that it's gone their relationship will fall to pieces or something, but Brittany only tells her she forgot about that silly old list anyway.

"The list," Brittany explains, seeing Santana's stricken expression. "Not what was on it. I could never forget _that_."

"Really?" Santana breathes, and Brittany nods like it's obvious.

"You don't need it in writing," Brittany says, kissing her, "if you know it already."

So Santana throws away the last remaining list, never forgetting Brittany's favorite songs or the baby names she likes when—God forbid—the time comes. And as for the third list, Brittany makes it a point to remind her every day what was on it, and Santana does the same right back.**  
**


End file.
